


You Make Me Sway

by lily8007



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Bisexual Dinah Lance, F/F, Getting Together, Lesbian Helena Bertinelli, not that she realized it at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily8007/pseuds/lily8007
Summary: Helena hasn't had any use for feelings beyond rage at injustice, hunger for revenge, and pride in a plan well executed.  Suddenly, thanks to one high-kicking lounge singer, she's dealing with a whole new vista of emotions.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 90
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen the film twice and fell in love with these characters. Our favorite adorably awkward assassin does seem rather captivated by Dinah, doesn't she? This is one way that could pan out.

Dinah was effortlessly cool in a way Helena never even thought to wish she could be, until she saw it in action. It was intimidating, really, the aloof demeanor, the brash insults Dinah slung at anyone who got too close … but she had a softer side, too. Anyone brave enough to stick around past that first cutting line or two, or anyone pitiful enough to get her compassion from the beginning, soon realized that her tough exterior was a mask for the deep well of kindness in her soul. 

Helena remembered, sometimes, that Dinah had spoken approvingly of her from the first. _I like this chick, she’s got rage issues._ A weird thing to like about someone, even if Helena didn’t have rage issues, anyway. Her rage was very tightly focused and her control of it was excellent, thank you very much. It’s not an _issue_ , it’s a weapon.

She was pretty sure that amiable line was because Dinah saw immediately how awkward Helena was, once Victor Zasz, the final corpse in her revenge tally, lay cooling on the sofa. For the first time in fifteen years, Helena had found herself without a purpose, without a plan. _Kill them all, avenge your family_ had been her objective for so long that she hadn’t ever looked past that moment.

Of course, Renee had made a good point - she needed to take out Sionis, too. And then protecting Cass was its own goal. After that, she’d ended up with something like _friends_ , a weird concept to Helena. She’d had family, once, and then allies, trainers, but she couldn’t remember ever having friends.

Montoya somehow talked them into starting their own group. Real justice, from the bottom up. Helena had more money than she knew what to do with and no plan for her life. Making sure what happened to her didn’t happen to other kids was as good an idea as any. The fact that it let her spend time around Dinah and Renee just sealed the deal. Renee talked to both of them like they were her clueless nieces, scolded them to eat better and drink less … even while she worked her way through most of a bottle of whiskey without help. Helena liked that about her, Renee was tough and sharp-tongued but you couldn’t ignore the fact that she cared.

Dinah … Dinah was different.

Dinah joked with Helena, sometimes, and talked seriously to her sometimes. Like she trusted Helena to know the difference, to know how to lob playful insults or light-hearted compliments at the right times, and when to stop that and be genuine. Like she thought Helena was a real person, not a vendetta wrapped up in human skin. 

She made Helena nervous, and even more awkward than usual, which was really saying something. As a teenager, Helena had only seen other teens at a distance, and she’d been smugly glad of her goal. It gave her purpose and kept her from the hapless foolishness that seemed to be their entire existence. But now, apparently the rest of the world had been learning _social skills_ during those years of their lives, and Helena found herself with none. Her plans had never included anything like romance, or even sex for that matter. Not that she was wholly inexperienced, but a few hesitant kisses with men she met in bars where she’d gone just to drink away the time between hits had seemed to show her that there was nothing for her in all of it.

As it was turning out, it wasn’t that she had no interest in that stuff. She just had no interest in _men_.

Maybe if she’d had something approaching a normal adolescence, she’d be able to deal with the way Dinah affected her. Tight pants, bared midriff, breasts pushed up by a gold bra, knowing eyes, full lips, it seemed Helena was always noticing something about Dinah that made her belly tighten and her hands tremble and her mouth water. Once she’d been watching Dinah walk away after a fight, the self-satisfied sway of her hips mesmerizing, and Renee had thrown a rude elbow into her recently-bruised ribs. “For fuck’s sake, Killer, make a move already,” she’d complained.

“What?” Helena said, not even objecting to Renee’s annoying nickname for her. “What do you mean, move?”

Renee had rolled her eyes extravagantly. “God, I can’t tell if this is you being a feral imitation of a human being, or you being a textbook useless lesbian. Or both, it could always be both.”

Helena somehow understood every word in that sentence without quite comprehending Renee’s meaning when they were strung together. She settled for an offended-sounding “Excuse me?” as a response.

Renee just sighed. “She likes you, dummy. Ask her out or something. I didn’t sign up to be your gay guide.”

Helena was pretty sure that Dinah didn’t like her any more than she liked the rest of them, but then, she seemed to like them - even Harley, at least once Dinah got her car back - more than the rest of humanity. And she wouldn’t know how to ask anyone out if her life depended on it, or where to go if she did ask. Helena’s nights were spent training, fighting, or drinking with her friends to blow off steam. She chalked up Renee’s comments to the older woman’s own frustrations, and ignored the whole situation.

Until she couldn’t anymore, that was.

…

Most fights went their way. Renee usually had a plan, Helena was terrifyingly well-trained, and Dinah could fight with the best of them. Tonight, though, everything went to hell from the moment they walked in.

It was _supposed_ to be covert, they were supposed to be staying hidden until this particular arms deal was concluded, whereupon they could spring out and take everyone - sellers and buyers - by surprise. The problem was, the Birds of Prey had gotten around enough that scumbags were on the lookout. And they brought enough weapons that _no_ amount of training would be able to dodge that many bullets. Dinah could’ve taken down most of them with her canary cry, but then she’d be unconscious. There were just too many attackers to risk that, without a good defensive position.

Which was how all three of them ended up running for cover. Renee made it out, Helena saw that much, but she and Dinah were racing back into the abandoned warehouse with a bunch of really angry crooks in hot pursuit. They needed to get out of the line of sight, and Helena scrambled up a ladder to a catwalk, Dinah following her. Most people didn’t look above their heads, but they _would_ search here, and she needed a hiding place, _fast_. If they could get the pursuers to pass them, Dinah could use her cry and Helena could mop up any stragglers.

First they had to remain undetected. Helena jumped off the catwalk to a series of high shelves, picking her way carefully along between smallish boxes of parts. She wanted a better concealment than this. Dinah was right behind her, still, and they hurried toward some larger boxes. If they could worm their way between those and crouch down, they’d be unseen by everyone on the floor and the catwalk.

The door below banged open, and Helena saw a flashlight sweep through the gloom. She reacted instantly, turning on her heel and tackling Dinah silently to the ground. Well, the shelf, in this case. The boxes on either side of them offered little concealment, not being high enough, but _little_ concealment was better than _none_.

Except, as the men shouted instructions and fanned out to search, Helena realized she’d picked the worst possible place and manner to try to hide. She was stretched out atop Dinah, cheek to cheek, Dinah’s hands down at her side, their bodies pressed together in ways that made Helena profoundly uncomfortable. Her whole back prickled with unease, and she tried to raise herself on her forearms and toes so she wasn’t touching so much. Doing so only made her aware of Dinah taking a breath in, quietly as she could, the way her belly moved under Helena’s, the way their legs were tangled together, and Helena’s mind short-circuited.

She had to get up. She _had_ to. This was totally out of bounds, the only reason Dinah wasn’t cussing her out was all those men with guns looking for them both, and _shit_ , those men were the reason she _couldn’t_ just get up. “Sorry,” Helena whispered, hearing the raw edge of panic in her voice. “Sorry, I can’t, they’ll see, I just…” 

“Hush,” Dinah whispered back, her hands gripping Helena’s jacket. And oh fuck, oh shit, she smelled too damn good for this, something sweet and floral in her perfume, a hint of cocoa butter on her skin, and if Helena stayed her hovering right over her a moment longer, she’d just … explode, probably, from sheer awkwardness.

“Sorry,” Helena whispered, her voice a little harsher, and tried to push herself up further away.

Doing so would bring the line of her shoulders above the edge of the boxes, and there were footsteps on the ladder. Any second now, their pursuers would see her. Helena wanted to scream in anxiety and frustration.

Dinah tugged her down by the grip on her jacket, and before Helena could make a startled noise of protest, their lips met. Their noses bumped, too, until Dinah angled her head and kissed Helena firmly, with clear intent.

What.

The fuck.

Helena couldn’t think. She just … _melted_ into that kiss, letting herself sink down over Dinah’s body. Everything else just went away, her worry that Dinah would be offended, the men trying to kill them, even her concern for Renee. For a single moment, standing out in clarity like the strains of a violin solo, Helena lived and breathed solely in the kiss. Dinah’s lips moved softly against hers, tasting faintly of vanilla, and her hands on Helena’s sides kept her anchored close.

Feeling like she could die right then without a single regret, Helena sighed in the first real contentment she’d known in a long time. And pulled back for another breath, opening her eyes to look at Dinah’s face. A slow smile curved those lips - that she had just kissed, she could still taste them - and Dinah just winked at her. Making no move to get away, or push Helena up to a more decent distance. No, she looked entirely happy right where she was, and that made something low in Helena’s abdomen turn warm and eager.

A flashlight beam swept over them, but they were pressed so tightly together that the boxes hid them both. Still, it was the reminder Helena needed - they had a job to do. And some very bad men to take out.

Her expression must’ve changed, because Dinah nodded. And once all the footsteps and lights were past them, they both sat up. Helena more awkwardly, of course, because she’d become aware again of how her long lean body fit so well between Dinah’s shapely thighs, and that was _not_ something she needed to be thinking about just now.

Dinah leaned close to her ear, and whispered, “If we make it out of this in one piece, remind me I owe you a serious kiss, Huntress.”

Helena wanted to tell her that she didn’t owe anything, that she understood it had just been a way to shut her up and keep her still long enough to survive, but the selfish part of her refused to turn down any chance of another kiss. And if that kiss hadn’t been a serious one, she didn’t know if she’d survive the real deal. She settled for nodding, trying to look solemn, and gearing up to go after the men.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fills the Trope Bingo prompt, "Language/Translation". Who knew being fluently multilingual would come in handy?
> 
> Also, the fic will earn its rating next chapter.

With Dinah’s voice, Helena’s crossbow, and Renee driving one of the bad guys’ own trucks through the wall at just the right moment, they all managed to escape in one piece - and leave the perps and the evidence for the police. Afterward, Dinah was semi-conscious at best; the canary cry always left her woozy. “Get her home, Killer,” Renee said, reaching into Dinah’s pocket for her keys and handing them to Helena, who was half-carrying her. “And don’t even think of taking advantage.”

Helena just glared at her for that one. She didn’t know where Dinah lived, and it’d been a year or more since she’d driven a car instead of a motorcycle, but the registration in the glove compartment took care of problem one, and driving slowly and carefully took care of problem two.

Dinah was blinking and looking around when they arrived, as Helena parked the car carefully. “Can you walk?” she asked.

She’d recovered faster, the first time she used the cry. But then, she’d been juiced up on adrenaline from the fight and fear for Cass. Dinah reserved it for last-ditch situations precisely because she was foggy for up to an hour after each time. “Maybe?” Dinah answered, her voice thick, and she rubbed at her eyes.

“I’ll help you,” Helena said. 

She managed to get Dinah out of the car and up to her door, where Dinah unlocked it. Helena would’ve left, but Dinah caught her jacket. “Stay. ’ve got space,” she said sleepily. 

“You sure?” Helena asked.

Dinah smiled at her, the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen, and murmured, “Still owe you a kiss. Killer.”

“Don’t call me that,” Helena muttered, but she was blushing.

“Still. Stay. Safer w’ you here.” Dinah still sounded a bit out of it. And as much as Helena wanted to run away and never show her blushing embarrassed face to anyone in this town again, she couldn’t deny that Dinah _would_ be safer with someone on watch.

She also couldn’t help running that kiss through her mind on an endless loop. “Let’s get you to bed,” Helena said, following her inside, and then thought about what she’d just said and blushed more.

Dinah didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t take the opportunity to make a joke. She seemed to brighten up a bit, on her home turf, and said, “Shower first.”

That was where Helena drew the line - she was _not_ going to be able to help her with that. “Sure you won’t fall and hit your head or something?” she asked, worried.

“I’m exhausted. Not drunk. Or crippled,” Dinah told her, her voice firmer now, and then undid the impression of recovery by yawning. “I’ll be okay. You can have the next shower. I’ve got stuff you can wear.”

That seemed to show that she really did want Helena to stay, and for all her awkwardness, Helena couldn’t make herself deny Dinah anything she wanted. So she simply nodded, and let Dinah walk under her own power to her bedroom.

She was left standing in the living room, eyeing the kitchenette. Instinct told her to case the place for possible exits, potential weapons, weak defense points, anything dangerous or helpful. Helena successfully told instinct to shut up, for once, but she did go into the kitchen and find tea and honey and a kettle. Dinah’s voice had sounded scratchy, like her throat was sore, and Helena supposed using her power might have that side effect.

The tea - some kind of ginger blend - was ready and sweetened when Dinah stepped out the shower in a fuzzy bathrobe. She absolutely _beamed_ at Helena when she held out the mug. “ _Thank_ you, that’s just what I need,” she said, and handed over a bundle of fabric that turned out to be a towel, a tank top, and soft pajama pants. “Everything I own is gonna be loose and short on you,” Dinah explained with a shrug. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Helena assured her, and tried not to think about sleeping in anything that smelled like Dinah. These clothes had been on her body, on her bare skin, and it made her spine tingle to think about that.

She told herself she was being ridiculous, and hurried through a shower. They really had both needed one, after that fight; the warehouse was grimy and dusty, and they’d gotten sweaty in the midst of battle. Dinah’s fancy soap stung a little in every wound she’d sustained. Mostly scuffed-up knuckles, but there was a shallow scratch along her ribs she couldn’t even remember getting. Someone must’ve been quick with a knife.

Helena came out clean and refreshed, her uniform bundled up beneath one arm, still rubbing at her damp hair with the towel. She expected Dinah to already be asleep, and was planning to just curl up on the couch. She’d slept worse places in her life.

Instead, Dinah was awake and in the kitchen, still sipping tea. She looked fully recovered now, except that she was still soft and sleepy-eyed. The bathrobe was open, showing that she wore a faded t-shirt and pajamas under it. One glimpse of vulnerability, and Helena wanted suddenly to protect her, to be her armor from the world.

She knew better. Dinah was a power in her own right. She held her own in fights against people who tested Helena’s training. Watching each other’s backs was one thing; this weird desire to wrap her up and keep her safe like some fragile ornament was just another example of Helena’s poor social skills. She did her best to throttle it, but she couldn’t quite take her eyes off Dinah.

It didn’t help that Dinah smiled at her, slow and sweet. “You look cute, Killer,” Dinah murmured.

The tank top showed an inch of toned belly, and the pants were basically capris on Helena’s taller frame. It didn’t add up to cute, in Helena’s estimation, but she’d take that from Dinah. The same way she allowed the whole Killer thing to go on. “You look … better. Like you’re recovering. Is it always like that, using the power?”

“Yeah,” Dinah said, still smiling. “Go sit down, we deserve a toast for surviving that. Right?”

“Sure,” Helena said, wondering what was in her mind to make her smile like that. Maybe it was just the euphoria of not getting killed. Every time Helena pulled off an assassination, she was lightheaded for hours afterward. That she’d done it, that she’d managed not to get killed in the process, that she was closer to her goal of avenging her family, all of it left her a little disconnected from herself. She’d learned to wait that out, make plans when she was more grounded.

She took a seat on the couch, and Dinah came along after her with two shots of whiskey. “To victory?” she asked, handing one over.

Dinah stood in front of her instead of sitting down, and Helena raised her glass. Maybe she worried that if she sat down, she’d fall asleep on the couch. “To victory,” Helena replied, determined not to keep the Canary up too late.

They both drank, Helena watching Dinah’s throat work and trying not to wonder if she liked to be kissed there. And then Dinah took both glasses, set them on the table beside Helena, and sat down astride her lap just as neatly as if she’d planned it all along.

Which she probably had. Helena’s mind blanked out again, every thinking process cut off in favor of sensation. The warm, cozy weight of Dinah balanced on her thighs, the feel of her hands on Helena’s shoulders, the playful spark in her eyes. Helena didn’t know what to do with her own hands, didn’t know how she was supposed to react, didn’t know for sure if this was just some way of blowing off steam or if Dinah was just trying to see what was going on in her head or if it meant nothing at all. So she froze, eyes wide, trying to guess what she was supposed to be doing and having not the faintest idea.

Dinah tilted her head, and chuckled softly. “Vapor-locked? Oh, honey. How can you be so damn badass stone-cold heartless-killer cool in the streets, and so _none_ of those things whenever it gets personal?”

“I’m not … I don’t do … personal,” Helena managed to grate out. Her hands were shaking, but an idea was forming in her mind that maybe she should’ve put her arms around Dinah, maybe she should let her know that this was okay. More than okay, that she liked having Dinah in her lap.

Before she could summon the courage to do or say anything, Dinah took the initiative for her. She ran one hand into Helena’s hair, leaned forward, and kissed her softly. 

Everything Helena was or wanted to be seemed to flow into that kiss. Her hands were on Dinah’s waist somehow, one of them sliding up her side, just savoring the feel of her, the worn t-shirt and the warm skin just under it. Dinah’s lips parted, the tip of her tongue tracing over Helena’s lower lip, and she opened her mouth in a welcoming sigh. Whiskey and honey on Dinah’s tongue, the sting and then the sweet, and if Helena had been a little more coherent she would’ve made some kind of poetic analogy to how that explained everything about Dinah.

Before she could, Dinah rocked her hips a little, leaning closer, and oh _damn_ it was sensory overload all over again. Helena felt feverish, one hand up under the back of Dinah’s shirt, palming across her spine, her shoulders, unable to get enough of her. The other arm around her waist, holding her tight, wanting her close close _close_ as they could get. Every frequency in her mind was still jammed, but a signal was starting to get through, and all it said was that she wanted this, wanted Dinah, wanted everything she could have.

Dinah pulled away, just slightly, and to Helena’s own surprise she tugged the singer firmly back into her lap. “Carrucia,” she breathed, and kissed Dinah. She got a surprised little sound in return, and Dinah wreathed her arms around Helena’s neck, returning the kiss with even more passion.

It was all a blur, strong impressions - the way Dinah tipped her head back to let Helena kiss and nibble her neck, the feel of those strong thighs wrapped around her, the way Dinah gasped when Helena seized her hips and tugged her closer. Finally, though, Dinah pulled back for breath, her chest heaving, and Helena kissed the little dip between her collarbones. Her voice was low and worshipful. “Dolcezza, ho un debole por te. Sei bellissima.” It was only the truth, she _was_ weak for Dinah, but only in the best way. And Dinah was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, too.

Dinah actually shivered, but not as if she wasn’t enjoying the attention. “That is hot as fuck, just so you know.”

Helena looked up at her, blinking, and Dinah smirked at her incomprehension. “You want me so much you forgot English? Damn, that’s a compliment.”

“Ti voglio,” Helena murmured. And when Dinah raised her brows in a question, she translated. “That’s how they say it in Italy. Ti voglio - I want you.”

Dinah’s eyes darkened. “Then - ti voglio, Helena.” Her pronunciation wasn’t perfect, but it sent chills down Helena’s spine anyway. 

Even more so when she added, “Take me to bed.” Helena stood up, carrying her easily, and Dinah laughed in sweet surprise at her strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would be more accurate for Helena to speak Sicilian, probably, but there's not quite as much information available for that dialect. So she uses italian here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is the opposite of a slow burn, but better (and more patient) writers than I are handling that beautifully for this fandom. Instead, have some sweet and intense smut, and some pillow talk after.
> 
> Now, if this were real life instead of fantasy, I'd say it's a bit irresponsible to be having unprotected sex with a new partner, especially when Helena does have open cuts on her hands. However we are talking about vigilantes, here. They're both comfortable assuming a certain degree of risk.

There _was_ the small matter of what exactly she intended to _do_ with Dinah once she’d carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Some deep primal instinct had very intense ideas, mostly centered around hearing Dinah moan her name. How to accomplish that was less clear. 

Helena could figure out how to kill a man who never traveled with fewer than six bodyguards, and still manage to avoid being arrested for it. Surely she could figure _this_ out.

She started with the kisses she couldn’t get enough of. Dinah’s bed was large enough for her to stretch out beside the singer, not on top of her - although the memory of how they fit together in the warehouse was definitely making her heart beat faster. Helena cupped her cheek and kissed her long and slow and thorough, mesmerized by the taste of her lips and the breathy way Dinah sighed. 

Dinah gave as good as she got, deepening the kisses and letting Helena chase the last hints of whiskey and honey on her tongue. Her hands framed Helena’s lean shoulders, drifting down to her arms, and she squeezed her biceps appreciatively. “Damn, I love those guns,” she whispered, smiling into the kiss. 

It was a revelation to Helena, that anything about _her_ could be desirable. When she looked in the mirror, she only saw the shadow of a broken little girl, trying and failing to hide behind a mask of toughness and vengeance. Apparently Dinah saw something completely different.

Helena kissed her tenderly, leaning up to press her lips feather-gentle to Dinah’s brow. She didn’t have the words in any of the languages she knew to explain why Dinah’s regard made her feel like she could someday be whole again. At that, Dinah looked at her with eyes gone dark and wanton, and murmured, “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be this sweet.”

Helena bit her lip, looking at her with a thread of unease. “Do you … not want that?”

“Nah, I like it sweet,” Dinah said easily, leaning in to kiss her again. And when Helena still hesitated, she added in a confessional murmur, “I like it rough, too. Whatever you want, baby.”

“Mi fai impazzire,” Helena murmured hotly. _You make me crazy._ She felt half-mad with desire, and the way Dinah arched her back at the words only made her hotter.

She pressed Dinah down against the comforter, rucking up the t-shirt she wore, and paused to regard all that beautiful skin bared to her sight. Dinah’s navel was pierced, too, and she gave Helena a salacious smile, pulling the t-shirt up even higher to show off the gold rings through her nipples. Helena couldn’t help staring, her hands trembling a little. The contrast of brilliant gold against richly-toned skin was beautiful in its own right, but because this was _Dinah_ and she was _choosing_ to show it off to Helena… “See something you like?” Dinah murmured.

“Everything,” Helena replied frankly, her voice soft with adoration. She traced her fingertips over one of the rings, feeling Dinah shiver at her touch, and bent her head to kiss those dark nipples, one after the other, letting her tongue circle around them.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Dinah whispered, tangling her fingers in Helena’s hair. “C’mon, Helena, take what you want.”

That was music to Helena’s ears, and she let herself indulge, kissing every inch of skin, savoring the feel of it. The rings were cold against her tongue, heavy when she carefully toyed with them. The eager little sounds Dinah made as she did were almost too much, building up a fierce pressure of desire in her. She ran one hand along Dinah’s side, from the curve of her breast to the curve of her hip, and took a ragged breath as she felt Dinah lift her knee, wrapping her leg around Helena’s. She palmed that gorgeous toned thigh, giving a low groan against Dinah’s chest. Did she _have_ to be so damn perfect? 

Dinah caught her wrist, and for a second Helena thought she’d gone too far … until Dinah brought her hand around between her thighs, arching up to press against her fingers. “Touch me,” Dinah murmured, her voice low and molten and oh God _pleading_. Like she wanted this more than anything, like she needed Helena so fiercely she couldn’t contain it.

The same way Helena needed her. If not for the heavy rush of arousal Dinah sparked in her, she might’ve blanked out in sheer disbelief. Nowhere in her plans had she ever made time for love or desire or even just sex. She’d never pictured herself here, sliding her hand up the front of Dinah’s pajamas and then slipping under the waistband, soft fabric against the back of her hand, even softer skin under her palm.

Her first, hesitant caress still made Dinah gasp shakily, hips swiveling in search of more, even as Helena whispered in awe, “Come sei bagnata.” Hunger consumed her, and Helena knew what _she_ liked, when she was alone with hazy thoughts in her mind - lately those thoughts had been of Dinah, not that she’d admit that under torture. She stroked more boldly, paying special attention to whatever made Dinah gasp and shiver and moan. 

Part of her was so purely stunned at her good fortune, she could only revel in each instant. If she _had_ let herself think about it, she probably would’ve frozen up again. Instead, Dinah’s hand shadowed hers, showing her exactly what she liked, and Helena had always been a quick student. She savored every sigh, every gasp, every delicious arch of Dinah’s hips.

Left to her own devices, Helena could’ve gloried in it all night, just like that. But Dinah had led this dance from the first, and she chose the next measure. “Don’t tease me,” Dinah whispered, her voice fraught. “God, Helena, _please_ … I need you inside…” 

The heat in Helena’s belly pulled tight and trembling at the naked greed in her voice. That _she_ was the author of it…! Helena gave an impatient growl, curling two fingers into her, and Dinah’s voice spiraled up, sounding almost pained. She caught Helena’s wrist again, her breath panting as she demanded, “Don’t stop, Helena, I can take more… God, yeah, _more_ , please, _Helena_ …” 

Three fingers, then, and Dinah _moaned_ , rocking her hips to drive them in deeper. Helena watched her face, transfixed by desire, and how was it possible for her to be even _more_ beautiful like this? Those dark eyes opened, locked on Helena’s, and Dinah gave a little whimper, clutching at Helena’s arm as if to beg her not to stop.

She might not have stopped if the place caught on fire - and Helena felt hot enough that it seemed a strong possibility. Just feeling Dinah’s back arch, hearing the sounds she made, already had her as slick as she’d ever been _after_ one of her solitary pleasures. “Madre de Dio, sei così calda,” she whispered. “Dinah, amorina, vieni per me…” 

Dinah moaned again, her voice trembling, the rhythm of her hips growing erratic. “Fuck, Helena, _yes_ , oh _God_ yes…” She bucked hard into Helena’s hand, and something in her gaze shattered as ecstasy broke over her. Another loud cry, of fulfillment this time, and Helena was the one shivering with aftershocks of pleasure even as Dinah came down from it, panting.

They ended up cuddled together, both of them breathing harshly and smiling blissfully. Helena decided she couldn’t have been too terribly obvious about her inexperience, judging by the leg still wrapped around her hip. At least she’d shown herself worthy of Dinah’s desire.

Dinah was still looking deeply into her eyes, her own gone soft and adoring. Helena had never felt this _seen_ , and wanted still more of it, in all her life. Softly she murmured, “Nei tuoi occhi c’è il cielo.”

Leaning forward to press a breathless kiss to her lips, Dinah admitted, “I have _got_ to learn Italian.”

Helena chuckled a little, embarrassed. Here she was pouring her heart out, and she couldn’t remember to do it in a language Dinah actually understood? “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s seriously fucking hot.” She certainly looked pleased; Dinah licked her lips, and added in a husky voice, “You could probably read me your grocery list, and I’d get off on it.”

Blushing at the thought of getting her off - as if she hadn’t just done so - Helena tried to laugh that away. “No, come on, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Italian just sounds good,” Dinah protested. “Or you do, at least. You get all confident and sexy.”

“Not a _grocery list_ ,” Helena protested, amazed that _anyone_ thought she sounded confident or sexy, least of all this woman who was so powerful and beautiful in every moment of her life. “When I’m telling you heaven is in your eyes, that’s different.”

Dinah smiled - a different smile, a little bashful, as if she was as surprised and delighted by this whole situation as Helena was by her. “Is _that_ what that means? Wow. You’re … damn, Helena, you’re a poet too?”

“No, I just … you make me want to say all kinds of things.” Helena blushed again, as still more praises rose up in her mind.

“What kinds of things?” Dinah murmured, her gaze drifting to Helena’s lips. Her fingers were tracing aimless, gentle circles along the muscles of her arm, which only reminded Helena where her own hand still was. Dinah didn’t seem to want her to move it, though, her thighs held snug around her.

 _Ti amo_ , was the most obvious one, but Helena swallowed that back down. Too fast, too soon, no matter how true it felt. “Mi sono infatuata di te,” Helena admitted.

Dinah picked up on the word that had a relative in English, and her smile became adoring. “Yeah, I’m pretty infatuated, too. That could just be the damn good orgasm talkin’, though. Speaking of which … c’mere, Helena. Let me show you something…”


	4. Chapter 4

Dinah shifted then, and leaned in for a kiss that gently pressed Helena backward. She was still so captivated by the fact that she was doing this - and with _Dinah_ , who woke every hidden desire in her heart - that it took a moment for Helena to realize she was no longer on top of the situation, literally or figuratively. All of a sudden, the lazy sweetness faded, her body growing tense again. “Dinah…”

“Just relax, baby,” Dinah murmured, kissing down her neck. “I’m not a damn pillow princess, let me take care of you.”

Helena would’ve protested that there was no need; all of her fantasies about Dinah had been her lips and hands all over the singer’s body. Not the other way around. She hadn’t even imagined anyone making love to _her_.

Dinah’s hands were underneath the tank top she wore, palming across Helena’s abs, and she couldn’t help tensing at the touch. “God _damn_ , you’re so fucking ripped,” Dinah murmured appreciatively.

She paused, though, when Helena didn’t relax into her touch. _Couldn’t_ relax into it. All of a sudden, Helena could only think of all the ways her body differed from Dinah’s. The singer’s strength was hidden under sweet curves and soft skin. Helena was all hard muscle beneath too many scars. She’d spent fifteen years regarding her own body as a weapon, and compared to a work of living art like Dinah? She didn’t want to see pity in her lover’s eyes.

Or disgust.

Dinah looked up at her, her hand warm against pale skin, and Helena blushed miserably. She was already screwing this up with her weird awkwardness. “Helena? You don’t have to be nervous, baby, I’ll be good to you.”

That sent a delicious shiver up Helena’s spine. Still, the thought of Dinah seeing her naked, _touching_ her, made anxiety crawl across her skin. “You don’t have to … do anything for me,” Helena muttered, unable to meet her gaze.

Dinah curled up against her, warm and soft and irresistible. “Helena. If you really don’t want me to … I’d never do anything you didn’t want. But I’ve got this feeling - despite having just been _very_ well laid - that this is something new for you?” Her voice quirked up at the end, no judgment, just Dinah’s solemn question.

Helena couldn’t bring herself to answer in words, her face burning, so she simply nodded. Dinah told her tenderly, “Helena. Sweetheart. There’s nothing to be nervous about. This is _me_.”

“That’s why,” Helena managed to whisper. Like hell, there was nothing to be nervous about, no one had seen her naked since her last regular doctor’s visit when she was eight years old. “You’re so beautiful … and I’m not good enough for you.”

Dinah huffed at her, and caught her chin, making Helena meet her gaze. “ _Huntress._ You’re good enough for any-damn-body out there, you hear me? I’m just the greedy bitch who snatched you up before anyone else could.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Helena said, a hint of anger under her words. “You’re not greedy, and not a bitch. You deserve to have everything you want.”

“And I want _you_ ,” Dinah countered sharply. Her voice softened as she continued, “How could anyone _not_ want you? You’re the bravest woman I ever met, you’re strong as hell, you’re smart and _damn_ funny when you let yourself be, and you’re so fuckin’ sexy I’m really surprised no one else has charmed their way into your pants yet.”

Helena laughed at that. “ _You_ think _I’m_ sexy? Have you _looked_ at yourself?”

Understanding dawned in Dinah’s eyes, and she smiled wickedly. “Different kind of sexy, babe. I like my women tall and jacked. Apparently you like yours with a little more curve. Doesn’t mean you’re not hot; just means you’re not your own type.”

“Hope you like scars, too,” Helena said, daring.

To her amazement, Dinah just smiled more broadly. “Haven’t you heard? Chicks dig scars.”

That sounded like another reference Helena just didn’t get, but she let it pass. Mostly because Dinah leaned up to kiss her again, slow and soft at first, then with more passion. “I’ll like scars if they’re _your_ scars. I want _you_ , Helena Bertinelli, everything you are.”

That warmed her heart, and Helena kissed her back, murmuring, “Sei la donna dei miei sogni, amorina.” Dinah _was_ the woman of her dreams, after all.

Dinah practically purred at her worshipful tone. “That’s gonna get to me every time,” she said. “Now, are you gonna let me find out if you taste as good as you look? Or…” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Helena cut her off, a little too quickly, but oh God the image that just seared itself into her mind was too intense. Dinah’s long blonde hair spilled over Helena’s belly, and her lovely lips working magic below. And then, even sweeter, the thought that she could do the same to Dinah, lose herself in scent and taste and the sound of her lover’s pleasure… “I mean, yeah, I trust you. And I want to do that for you, too.”

Dinah smirked, and kissed her lips one more time. “Then let’s get these clothes off, beautiful. I don’t think either of us is gettin’ any sleep tonight…”

Eager now, Helena found it easier to sit up and take her tank top off. Dinah shrugged out of the t-shirt and glided into her lap again, leaning in to nuzzle Helena’s throat. Her breasts pressed against Helena’s smaller bust, the gold rings cool against her skin. They both got caught up in exploration; Helena found the line of Dinah’s shoulder irresistible, kissing all the way up her lovely neck. Dinah made a point of kissing every scar she noticed, but she was far more focused on finding the places that made Helena’s breath catch.

She pulled back, eventually, and when Helena would’ve followed, Dinah placed a gentle hand against her chest. “It’s my turn, lover. Lie back?”

Helena finally understood the crucial difference between having sex and making love. Sex, as she’d been aware of it in the lives of people around her, was just about sex. A biological urge, an itch scratched, one of life’s simple pleasures. Nothing wrong with that, Helena didn’t begrudge anyone whatever pleasure they could find in an often cruel world.

Making love, though, was about trust and intimacy. Helena wasn’t often in a position where anyone else had physical superiority over her; she was always in control of her own body, and how she held herself relative to every potential threat around her. Dinah was never a threat, she could be trusted absolutely and implicitly not only with Helena’s body, with her heart too. She’d proven that several times over by now with how gently she handled her. 

As she lay back and lifted her hips, letting Dinah slip the pajama pants off, a different kind of tension coiled in her belly: _anticipation_. Every square inch of Helena’s skin seemed to be on alert, rapturously awaiting Dinah’s touch. She watched, her eyes lidded and her breath heavy, as Dinah kissed down her abs, and then the hollow of her hip.

Dinah slid further down, lying between Helena’s legs, and kissed the inside of her thigh. Her breath was warm, fanning sparks beneath Helena’s skin, and her heart began to beat faster. _Mother of God, she’s really going to…_

Those were Dinah’s fingers, ever so gently opening her up for Dinah’s tongue, hot and wet in a long, firm lick that made Helena shudder. She cursed softly, Italian blasphemy delivered in worshipful tones, and felt as much as heard Dinah chuckle in answer.

Helena had no words at all for the things Dinah’s tongue and lips were doing for her, no words for the sensations crackling through her body like summer lightning. This was _nothing_ like taking care of it herself, every slightest move and touch was new and unpredictable and _wonderful_. Helena could barely catch her breath, her hips arching up in a plea for more. She wanted to bury her hands in Dinah’s hair, but was afraid of pulling against it too hard and clutched the blankets instead, her knuckles white.

And still the pleasure built, spiralling up in desire and need, and Helena wondered if it had been this good for Dinah. Thinking that made her shudder delightfully.

She hadn’t looked away from the singer, completely enraptured by her. Dinah’s eyes had been closed in concentration, but now she opened them, and looked up the length of Helena’s body to meet her gaze.

Something hot and wild in her eyes, as if this was turning her on as much as Helena. Something bold and demanding, too, no matter how soft she’d been before. She _wanted_ this, just as fiercely as Helena wanted her.

And she was so incredibly fucking hot, staring right into Helena’s eyes as her tongue wrote symphonies… 

That sight sent Helena over the edge, tossing her head back with a choked-off cry as pleasure overwhelmed her. No emotion or sensation had ever seized her like this; for a moment her own body didn’t belong to her anymore. Everything she had, everything she was, belonged to Dinah.

Helena came back to herself by gradual degrees, aware of her ragged breath, feeling Dinah’s cheek pillowed on her thigh. Dinah hummed softly, happily, one hand on Helena’s belly keeping her grounded. 

“Porca puttana, è stato fantastico,” Helena finally managed to say, still breathless.

Dinah chuckled and kissed her leg. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Helena did catch hold of her hair then, tugging gently at it. “Come up here, tesorina mia,” she whispered.

Dinah obliged her, and Helena drew her in for a kiss. For the first time in fifteen years, everything was right in the world. _Ti amo_ was on the tip of her tongue, but Helena still thought it was too early for that.

They lay cuddled in each other’s arms for a while, long enough for Helena’s breathing to go back to normal. Dinah gave her an adoring smile, tracing fingertips over her collarbones, and murmured, “You wanna do that again, lover?” 

She did, actually, but just thinking it woke a far stronger desire. Helena caught Dinah’s hand and rolled her under, kissing her intently. “First I want you like that,” she said. “I could never get enough of you.”

Dinah’s eyes went wide at being pinned down, but she relaxed into the kiss. “Come on then,” she challenged softly. “Take what you want.”

Smiling just as wickedly, Helena did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter count updated - these two have a bit more to say.
> 
> I'm also going to be making this a series, since a plotbunny from Dinah's POV just bit me. You'll get to see what exactly Harley was right about when I post that.
> 
> I also have plans for an unrelated Dinah/Helena fic. I was inspired by the truth or dare scene in chapter six of [knew your love (before i kissed you) by z0ejake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643359), which is freaking AMAZING by the way. If you want a delicious slow burn and some deep insight in Helena's past and her family, go read that one. Yes, it's a WIP, but the author updates regularly and is an absolutely lovely person, too. 
> 
> Speaking of fic recs, I'm also subscribed to [Purpose by Dreamshaper](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083288), which is an exploration of how the Birds of Prey began working together. I love it when an idea just grabs hold of an author and won't let go. That's what happened to me with this supposed oneshot.
> 
> There are more awesome fics in the tag, and I'm going to try linking a few of my favorites in the notes for each chapter and upcoming work.

It was a good thing Harley had given Helena the information from the diamond. Replacing _all_ the windows and glassware in Dinah’s apartment the next day wasn’t going to be cheap. On the scale of the Bertinelli fortune, however, it wasn’t expensive either, though Dinah fretted about it. “Dammit, Hel, I can’t let you pay for that,” she argued.

Helena shrugged, unable to keep her lips from curving in a proud smile. “It was my fault. I’ll cover it.”

Dinah crossed her arms, trying to look serious, but she couldn’t help a crooked smile. “It wasn’t a damn competition, you know. And you could look a little less happy about it, showoff.” 

Smirking, Helena didn’t reply. She _was_ a fast learner, especially when highly motivated, and last night she’d discovered several new favorite things in the entire world. The best of which was teasing Dinah a little, or more accurately teasing her a _lot_ , getting caught up in the pleasure she was giving her and not _quite_ letting her climax. Her mind was branded now with the image of Dinah, cursing and pleading and desperate, all of it for _her_.

Of course, finally giving her what she needed was why Helena was looking up ‘window replacement’ online this morning, so it might be something they needed to indulge in moderation.

Dinah huffed at her. “Let the landlord get the windows, at least. That’s his job. No one ever gets their security deposit back anyway.”

“But look, you could have the ones with the blinds built in between the glass,” Helena said, pointing them out. 

Looking over her shoulder, Dinah’s gaze dropped to the price. “Uh, _no_ ,” she laughed. “That’s way too damn expensive. Are you gonna be like this about the glasses, too? Try and get some Waterford crystal up in here? Because I got my shit at Goodwill.”

Helena looked at her seriously. “You should be able to have whatever you want, Dinah. Whatever’s best.”

Dinah cocked her head with a disbelieving expression. “So you’re my sugar mama now? Gonna buy me everything I want?”

Something about her tone made it plain that the simple answer - _yes_ \- would not be well received. Helena found herself adrift, wondering if she should just buy the building, but somehow that seemed like it would annoy Dinah even more. So she opted for the safest response. “What’s a sugar mama, and why is buying you everything you want a bad thing?”

Sighing, Dinah tossed her hair over her shoulder. “First of all, it’s usually sugar _daddy_ , not a sugar mama. And it’s usually an older guy with money who spends it all on a younger woman. She only sleeps with him because she likes his money. And I don’t want you thinking I’m in this for your Bertinelli bank accounts.”

Helena blinked. “I … never would’ve thought that? You wouldn’t do that. But - how old are you?”

Dinah laughed. “Twenty-four. The age isn’t the important part.”

“I’m twenty-three,” Helena said, taking her hands. She rubbed her thumbs across Dinah’s knuckles gently. “I mean, it _is_ a lot of money and I might as well use some of it. Why shouldn’t I spend it on you, carissima?”

Dark eyes softened at that. “You’re not always gonna get your way by pulling out another Italian nickname, you know.”

That was a cue Helena could read. She smiled tenderly, pulling Dinah close. “I’m not, meraviglia?”

Shaking her head, Dinah wrapped her arms around Helena’s shoulders, yielding to her. “Fine, you can buy the damn windows. Get the cut crystal glassware too, what the hell. I’ll live like a mafioso if you just keep that up.”

“Mafiosa,” Helena corrected lightly. “Living like a mafioso is suits and hair cream and cigars. Fancy dresses and expensive jewelry and really good wine is more mafiosa.”

“Oh, you’re talkin’ jewelry now?” Dinah teased. “Slow down, Hel, I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got time.”

Helena slid her arms around Dinah’s waist, savoring how _right_ she felt there. “Sei tutto per me,” she admitted. And when Dinah looked at her curiously, she translated, “You’re everything to me. Dinah … I thought, when I killed the last of them, that I’d be free. That I’d be happy. Instead I was just … empty. For fifteen years I thought and planned and trained every day to avenge my family. Then in a handful of days it was done, and what did I have left?”

Dinah stroked her cheek, her eyes worried. “Friends who care about you. An obnoxious little pickpocket who thinks you’re pretty badass. A set of skills that the people in this town should be _damn_ grateful for. And … me.”

“You,” Helena agreed. “Just … this between us? It feels like the first good thing that’s happened in my life since I was a little kid. I don’t ever want that to change.”

At that, Dinah kissed her. “God, you’re sweet. Hel, baby … you sure about this? I don’t want you to go all romantic on me and then realize later you just _really_ needed to get laid.”

Helena couldn’t help laughing. “Ti amo, cuore mio. This is more than sex. I may not know a lot, but I know that.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Dinah said, and then kissed her again. Slowly, not the impassioned heat of last night. She drew back a little, leaning her forehead against Helena’s. “Just so you know. I love you, too.”

“Tesorina,” Helena sighed, and held her close. “You are a treasure, Dinah.”

Dinah chuckled softly. “Keep thinking that, Hel.” 

…

They kept their affair secret, at first. It never occurred to Helena to tell anyone else, and when she acted the same around Renee, Dinah just gave a slight nod. There probably _would_ be some teasing from the older woman once she found out. Better to keep this quiet, for now, let it be something the two of them had just for themselves.

And it stayed quiet until after a particularly vicious fight, one that even Harley got involved in. Then again, most of their worst trouble had Harley in it somewhere. When the battle-haze cleared her mind, Helena looked around, assessing her team. Renee looked more angry than hurt, Harley was scraped up but beaming in triumph, and Dinah…

Dinah was leaning against the wall, one hand pressed to her ribs, her expression pained. 

Helena was at her side instantly, asking, “Are you hurt, bellezza?” She reached for the wound, but found no tears in Dinah’s uniform, no blood on her fingertips.

“Just bruised,” Dinah said, her eyes widening, and Helena realized what she’d said in a moment of unthinking concern. She winced, knowing it was too much to hope the other two would miss it.

Of course not, and Renee pounced on it like any new information. “ _Bellezza_? Oh for fuck’s sake, now you’re being _cutesy_. Nicknames and shit. Dinah, do the world a favor, please, and fuck that girl before she implodes.” 

“The hell you think I’ve been doing for the last month and a half?” Dinah shot back with a superior expression. She stepped in front of Helena, only to lean back against her possessively. “You never noticed I’m always in such a good mood lately?”

Well, if their secret was out, they might as well have fun with it. Helena wrapped her arms around the singer’s waist. As Renee’s jaw dropped and Harley squealed with excitement, she kissed Dinah’s shoulder.

“Oh my _God_ , young love, that’s _adorable_!” Harley exclaimed. 

“I’m gonna throw up,” Renee said. “For fuck’s sake, about goddamn time you did somethin’, you’ve been making eyes at each other since we fuckin’ met.”

“Aww, come on, they’re cute,” Harley protested. “Come on, dish, tell me everything. Where was your first date? Who made the first move? Oh, this is _exciting_.”

Renee just scoffed. “Canary made the first move, obviously. Huntress was so hung up on her she could hardly look at her. Shit, I shoulda known, you two actually started _talking_ like normal people.”

“Renee, you don’t _know_ any normal people,” Harley scolded.

Dinah sighed, and the feeling of her in Helena’s arms washed away the irritation she felt at the others for being so cynical and intrusive. “Yeah, I made the first move, so what?” Dinah said. “I knew what I wanted and I went for it. Didn’t have to ask twice, either.”

Renee looked right at Helena and gave a little laugh. “Chickenshit. I told you to do something _months_ ago.”

Before Helena could bristle, Dinah retorted, “It’s called old-world courtesy, Renee, you fucking heathen. I happen to appreciate it. There’s a certain charm to being courted, when most of the assholes in this town think ‘Wanna fuck?’ is a good pickup line.”

Not that they’d actually done much _courting_ , but Helena was content to let her spin this however she wanted. Dinah was making her sound a lot more suave than she possibly could be, even now. She snuggled against Dinah’s back, basking in the feeling of someone looking out for her.

Also thoroughly enjoying the fact that Dinah was so blatantly _smug_ about it. Dinah was _proud_ of her. Dinah was _showing her off_ to their friends.

Dinah was going to get fucked _hoarse_ , the next chance Helena got.

“Oh fuckin’ save me. Old-world _courtesy_. Next you’ll be learning Italian and sneering at my taste in wine, too.” Renee threw her hands up, laughing.

“Come on, that’s sweet,” Harley said, smiling at them both. “They’re _romantic_ , Montoya, didn’t the cop shows you were raised on ever have any subplots?”

Dinah chuckled, leaning back against Helena, and replied in languid tones, “I’m learning Italian anyway. She doesn’t speak English in bed.”

“Hey,” Helena murmured, nudging her chin against Dinah’s shoulder. That was a little _too_ personal.

“Oh, now _that’s_ sexy,” Harley said excitedly. “C’mon, Killer, say something hot in Italian!”

“I’ll say something in Spanish to all of you. Cállate, pendejas, we need to go.” Renee just looked mulish, but Helena thought she saw a hint of laughter in her eyes despite it all.

They did get moving toward their vehicles, though, Harley practically bouncing with glee. “This calls for a celebration,” she declared. “I’ll swing by tomorrow night and bring Cass. We’ll order in and drink to the lovebirds.”

“Or we could _not_ do that, because I know damn well it’s an excuse for an interrogation,” Dinah replied. “You wanna celebrate, fine, we’ll all go out somewhere. I’m not gonna get wine-wasted and answer all your filthy questions.”

Harley pouted. “C’mon, at least tell me I was right.”

“Right about what?” Helena asked, curious.

“Never you mind,” Dinah replied, nudging her elbow. “Harley’s just being intrusive as usual.”

“If you don’t dish I’ll just ask Killer,” Harley said, grinning.

“ _God_ , you are the _worst_ ,” Dinah groaned, turning on her heel. “Fine, yes, you were right, this conversation is _over_ now. My sex life is not up for public discussion.”

“You started it with the whole ‘she speaks Italian in bed’ thing,” Harley pointed out. “Gets your motor runnin’, does it?”

“Harley. _Shut up_.” Dinah glowered at her, but Harley just laughed and split off for her own car, a convertible of some American make Helena didn’t immediately recognize. It was an eye-watering shade of teal with plenty of chrome. Helena much preferred Dinah’s Jaguar, though they hadn’t ridden in it tonight. Helena’s new motorcycle - she’d upgraded to a Triumph Speed Triple RS after wrecking her S model - was parked near Renee’s jeep, and the cop paused by the bike.

“Hey, girls,” Renee said, and Helena looked at her curiously. “Good for you. About damn time you were both happy.”

“Thanks, Renee,” Dinah said, and Helena just nodded.

Her face split into a charming smile. “Now you can help me get the fifty bucks Harley owes me, too.”

“Harley owes you fifty dollars?” Helena asked, confused.

Dinah stopped with her helmet in her hands. “Fuck no! If you’re betting on who made the first move, you can collect your own damn money.”

Renee walked off laughing, while Dinah muttered insincere threats. Helena wanted to ask what Harley was right about, and why Renee and Harley had making bets about them, but it wasn’t important enough to be urgent.

Not when Dinah was straddling the bike behind her, hands on her waist, knees framing her hips. Helena revved the engine a little, knowing the vibration got to Dinah. “Ready?” she asked, and Dinah just squeezed her waist by way of assent.

It was time to go home, and make good on her earlier plan to show her appreciation for the way Dinah had handled that whole situation.


End file.
